


Ballet Shoes

by hpd_lance



Category: Gravity Falls, Homestuck, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon), Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Ballerina Greg, Because of Reasons, Bet you can't catch all the Homestuck references, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Is Alive, Feminism, Greg decides he wants to be a ballerina, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Like, Miss English totally isn't post-scratch Jade lmao, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Swearing, Transphobia, also steven shows up because in this AU all the cartoons exist in the same universe, and Dave because hes in here as a dancer but ironically, everyone is queer and Greg is totally NB, except she is, he's also a smol feminist child, idk how to tag, is an actual tag that exists, mostly said by wirt and their mother and dipper, so if those ships bother you then don't read this, the timelines of when the cartoons actually take place is kind of iffy, there are curse words on occasion, there will be so many mentioned Homestuck characters, there's background pinescone and mabcifica, you know there's a problem with death in your fandom when the tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 23:17:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5224772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpd_lance/pseuds/hpd_lance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg has always wanted to do ballet. Well, he had when he was five.</p>
<p>So when a new dance studio opens up, he begs his mom to sign him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ballet Shoes

When Greg first expressed an interest in ballet, he was five. He begged his parents to let him dance like the ballerinas on TV, bouncing on his toes when his mother said she'd think about signing him up for classes.

Three years later, a dance studio opens up nearby, and Greg is _sure_ his mother will say yes now.

\---

The end of the day finds Greg laid out on the living room floor, rewatching a tape of Swan Lake for the fifth time.

"Greg, honey?" His mother's voice calls from the entry hall, "Oh, you're watching those ballet tapes again? I thought you'd outgrown that phase."

Greg bounces to his feet, practically leaping into his mother's arms, "Mom, I wanna be a ballerina again! There's a new dance studio in town, I saw it when dad picked me up from daycare--"

"He wouldn't stop talking about it," Wirt chimes in from the kitchen, his sandwich-making mission completed, "And the moment we got home he started watching those tapes again. I think he's serious about this."

His mother studies him for a moment, "This isn't going to be another baseball, is it? You said you wanted to do that, then you quit six days in."

Greg solemnly shakes his head, "No, mom. This is much more serious than baseball," His face lights up, "This is _ballet_! Ballet is only the prettiest sport ever! You get to go to competitions and _everything_! Wirt looked up some ballet stuff and there's going to be a ballet competition in Dover in December! And all the dancers are really pretty and I _really_ wanna do it too!" He pouts, folding his hands together, "Please, mom?"

"I'll see how much tuition is, but I make _no_ promises. It could be expensive, plus you'd need ballet shoes and dancing clothes, and I'd have to figure out if it'd fit into our schedule. Wirt may have to drive you, and you have to ask him if he'd be willing to do that--"

"He already begged me. He said if you said no he wanted me to drive him in secret." Wirt laughs, walking into the living room and handing Greg his sandwich.

Their mother laughs, rolling her eyes lightheartedly, "Okay, well, we'll see. I'll talk to your d-"

"I asked him already and he said he thought it sounded like fun! He also said to ask you," Greg boops his mother's nose, "So here is me asking you if I can do ballet!"

She laughs, then sets Greg down on the floor, "I'll go by tomorrow and see when registration is and how much tuition is, okay?"

"Okay!"

\---------------------------------------

The next day, their mother starts speaking the moment she walks into the house, "Well, tuition isn't bad, but your class would be right as your father is leaving for work and right as I'm coming in, so I'm not sure--"

"Wirt will drive me!" Greg cheers, clinging onto aforementioned older brother.

"Yeah, sure, I guess. Not like I've got anything better to do." Wirt shrugs, patting Greg's head.

Their mother thinks for a moment, then sighs, "Alright. Okay. You know what, Greg? You can do ballet. Let's go and get you some ballet shoes."

\-----------------------------

"So I got this list here from the dance studio; it's a list of what is considered appropriate dance attire, but it's for little girls..." Greg's mother frowns as she and Greg walk through aisle after aisle of dancewear. Leave it to their town to have a dance store before having a dance studio.

"Well, I know I need ballet shoes, and I know I need some pretty hairbows and a tutu, because a ballerina isn't really a ballerina without a tutu," Greg begins, skipping along next to his mother, "And of _course_ I need some sparkly nail polish because you have to be fabulous to be a ballerina." He flips his hair, knocking the bow he'd put on all by himself askew.

His mother laughs, then squeezes Greg's hand gently, "We can just ask the lady at the front desk what dance studios usually have little boys wear. But we can definitely get you a tutu and some hair ribbons. The sparkly nail polish might have to wait, though."

"Okay, mom! Do boy ballerinas usually wear tutus? I don't want to look _silly_." Greg says seriously, ceasing his skipping to look up at his mother, a small frown pulling at the corners of his mouth.

She smiles down at him, then squeezes his hand, "Boy ballerinas can wear tutus if they want to, honey. Do you want to wear a tutu?"

"Yes! I love the fluffy ones that bounce when you walk, those are the _best_ kinds of tutus!" Greg says, the bounce back in his step and cheerful grin on his face.

It falters, however, when he sees two ladies looking at his mother with mean-looking faces.

He catches some of their whispers as he walks down the next aisle over.

"Can you _believe_ that woman? Making her _son_ take ballet?" One woman whispers to the other, her snooty voice strangely tinted with a weird Texas accent. They're not even _close_ to Texas!

"I can't understand some women, making their _sons_ do girly things like ballet. Poor boy needs a strong father figure in his life." The second lady says, scoffing in what Greg _knows_ is disgust.

Greg tried not to be angry, because those ladies probably just have issues, but when one calls his mother "evil" and says she's "trying to turn him into a girl", he has to blow up at them.

"My mom is not _evil_! And she's not _making_ me take ballet or wear bows in my hair or paint my nails, because I _want_ to do that stuff!" He exclaims, pointing angrily at the women, "My mom is being really _nice_ by _letting_ me do ballet! She's a lot better than _you_ , because she's _nice_ to people and doesn't _call people names_ behind their backs! I sure hope you're ashamed of yourselves, because you _should_ be!" He gets really angry then, glaring at the women as he yells, "Boys can wear tutus and makeup and hairbows and play with dolls and like unicorns and still be boys! I'm not 'turning into a girl' because I like ballet!"

The ladies stand still in shock, staring down at Greg with wide eyes, Greg glaring up at them, daring them to say another word.

"Ma'am, you need to control your child." Says one of the women to Greg's mother.

Greg's mother stares at them for a few moments before coldly saying, "You need to control your _words_. Maybe you shouldn't talk loud enough my son could hear you. Maybe _you_ need to be a little less-- cover your ears, Greg, mommy's about to use a bad word- bitchy."

One of the ladies gasps in horror, the other's eyes widen in shock. Greg's mother stands with her hands on her hips, looking down her nose at the other women.

The women glare at her a moment before turning to leave. They don't even buy anything.

"Can I uncover my ears now?" Greg asks quietly, looking up at his mother.

She nods, grabbing his hand again and tugging him a little harder than intended towards the shoes.

"Sorry, Greg, I'm so sorry you had to deal with that," She shakes her head solemnly, "Some people are going to tell you you can't do something because of your gender. It's going to happen. You just have to prove them wrong." She says through gritted teeth.

Greg knows her parents used to tell her she wouldn't be able to be a firefighter because she was a girl. Well, she wasn't a firefighter, but she _is_ a lawyer, which her parents also thought she couldn't be because she was a girl, so ha! His mom always gets the last laugh.

They only had to wait a few minutes for a nice old woman to come up to them. She looked about seventy and smelled like vanilla and cinnamon. Greg decided he liked her very much. "Which one of you lovely kids is looking for dance shoes?" Her voice is almost crinkly, thinks Greg, like the voice an old cat would have if it ate a paper bag that could make it talk.

Greg happily bounces on his toes, raising his hand, "Me!" He says excitedly, "I'm going to take ballet and be the best ballerina in all of Lakeville!"

The old lady chuckles, then nods, "I thought so," She says, shaking her finger lightly, "So, would you like the pink shoes, or the black shoes? Does your list tell you which color?"

"It says pink," Greg's mother replies, handing the list over to the woman, "And it's all about _girls'_ attire, and I'm not so sure Greg would be comfortable in a leotard. He's never had one before--"

"Well, usually dance studios say shorts and a shirt for young men, but I'm not quite sure what the policy is at this dance studio," The old woman says, tapping her chin, "You could always call them and ask, of course. Or I could call and ask in the interest of restocking my boys' section, if you like."

"Would you? I'm a little nervous to be honest," She bounces slightly, then shakes her head, "I don't want anyone to be mean to him, you know? He's had enough of that to last him a lifetime."

"I completely understand, dear, when my grandson made his transition a few years ago- he was fifteen at the time- I was worried about people hurting him," She smiles fondly, "But he and his boyfriend are plenty happy where they are in Salem, they own a little repair shop, rather adorable, the two of them," She pauses a moment, "My friend, he lives in Beach City- you know, in New Jersey- and his son is completely gender-neutral. He's a cute little thing, that Steven," She pats Greg's cheek affectionately, "They're coming here for a visit in a few days, maybe you could meet him! You'd definitely like Steven, I'm sure of it."

"He sounds super cool!" Greg says cheerfully, bouncing in his seat on a nearby bench, "I bet me and him have loads in common. I wonder if he likes frogs?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure you two would have a lot to talk about," The old woman chuckles, "I'll give your mother a call when they visit, if that's alright with her."

His mother nods, "Of course it is, Miss...?"

"Miss English, dear," The old woman smiles a warm smile, then pats Greg's shoulder, "What size shoe do you wear, dear?"

"I'm a three and a half usually, except when I get sparkly shoes in the sparkly shoes section, I get fours there, because the sparkly shoes section uses different sizes because girl's feet are smaller, apparently. Why that has anything to do with sparkly shoes I will never know," Greg shakes his head solemnly, kicking his feet slightly, "I think it's silly for them to have sparkly shoes only in the sparkly shoes section. I wish there were sparkly shoes that had elephants on them, you know? Or sparkly shoes with trains! Or frogs! 

"Actually, they have sparkly shoes with frogs on them, but those frogs were too weird-looking. Frogs don't wear makeup," He rolls his eyes, "Frogs don't have money to _buy_ makeup, and even if they _did_ , they'd just _eat_ it! Trust me, I tried putting makeup on Jason Funderburker and it ended up eaten," Greg sighs, "Ain't that just the way?"

The old woman chuckles, "You're an adorable child, Greg. Here, try on these ballet shoes while I call that dance studio." She hands him a small pink box with no brand name on it, only a little red bow.

He opens the box, and inside is a pair of pink ballet shoes. They look old, but not worn. Greg immediately decides that these shoes are magic and should be treated with care; magic is no laughing matter.

He carefully pulls the shoes onto his feet, and to no one's surprise, they fit like a glove. He nods to himself, "Definitely magic." He whispers, grinning happily and wiggling his toes. He stands and spins around in a happy little circle, holding his arms above his head and standing on his tippy toes, just like those ballerinas in Swan Lake.

He giggles, then sits back down, swinging his legs again, "I'm a magical ballerina prince! I'm the best swan in the whole lake!" He says, more to himself than anyone else, "I'm going to be the best ballerina this side of Lakeville, and that's a rock fact!" He says to his mother, a huge grin on his face.

She smiles down at him, and Miss English returns, "They said, and I quote, 'as long as he doesn't look like a slob, it's appropriate'. And yet the standards the little girls are forced to conform to..." She rolls her eyes, "Anyway, I suppose that means whatever he wants."

"Aw yeah! I'm gonna be a ballerina!"

"You're going to be the best ballerina in Lakeville!"

"I'm going to be the best ballerina in Massacussetts!"

**Author's Note:**

> oh god am I including Homestuck too??? yes. yes I am. because screw it.


End file.
